Black Flowers
by Nanigi Breedlove
Summary: The Black Flowers is a housing estate somewhere in northern England, which has been a stronghold for the Night World. Now the hunters and Daybreakers are trying to posess it, and this is a collection of stories about the lives of the residents.
1. Back Home

Ok, now this is a collection of short stories at first. However this one kind of ends on a cliff-hanger, which defeats the object, lol. I've already written most of this story, and I'll try to post once a week. This is a really mad collection of stories, some are just boy meets girl, girl happens to be soulmate, others are adventures. Please, please R&R, it makes my life worth living!  
  
1  
  
2  
  
3 Back Home  
  
Cirth Blackthorn was an assassin. A good one at that. He made a lot of money at what he did, which paid for his expensive lifestyle. He'd been hand plucked by Diamond, a lamia council member, when he was seventeen years old. At that time he'd felt great bitterness toward the world. He was an orphan, his parents had been killed by vampire hunters when he was eight. He'd lived for nine years with a little sister to support. That was then, though. Now Nettle still lived in their old house on the Black Flowers estate, but it was now a kind of penthouse.  
  
Just then Diamond jumped into the passenger side of his beautiful silver Jaguar. "Black Flowers estate, Cirth." She said curtly, swinging her honey blonde hair. He started the car. "Why there?" he asked.  
  
"It's where your next target lives. Anita Thorpe. Sound familiar?"  
  
"Uh, yes, actually." He remembered Anita. She'd been a mere human, but he remembered she'd lived in a decrepit little house in the west of the estate. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that her father had killed his parents.  
  
"Well, my client wants her dead. She's a very effective hunter, and causing a few… problems."  
  
"Whatever. Should I care?"  
  
Diamond laid a hand on his shoulder and laughed. "Of course not." She said. He laughed raucously, turning his golden eyes on her. He was her favourite, he knew. He enjoyed her attention, she was a very influential council member. She'd get him far. And Cirth was ambitious. He wasn't about to stay an assassin the rest of his life. His aim was to get very, very rich and enjoy the fear he'd inspired to hold a position himself.  
  
He drove in silence for a while. He could remember the estate so well. It had been built in the 1940s, on the spot of some bomb after the war. It had supposedly got its name in memory of the people who'd died on the site, but the Night World had taken it as a sign and set up shop. It had been a stronghold for twenty years, until vampire hunters had moved in. The ones who lived there didn't seem to care about the danger. In fact, they revelled in it. Now the entire west side had been taken over by vampire hunters, there families and even a few ordinary humans, most of whom knew about the Night World.  
  
Daybreak had a foothold in the south. They'd come in about 1994, and had convinced many of the residents to join them. The leader, Sora Keller, was untouchable, Cirth knew from experience. Hopefully the same wasn't true for Anita Thorpe. Nettle lived in the north. Thankfully he north and east were still very much under Night World sway.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
"Well," he said to Diamond an hour later. "We're here."  
  
The sun was still bright, but where the estate started, it seemed to get darker. The roads were crooked, and an odd stillness seemed to hang about the houses. "Well," she said. "We're supposed to be meeting Ethan in fifteen minutes. Come on."  
  
The entered the Black Flowers estate on foot from the east. He parked up just outside, it'd be nicked before you could say 'oh look there's a werewolf sneaking around suspiciously'. Cirth felt a strange feeling gripping his chest. He could remember this street! It had been, what, three years? He could feel himself remembering it all, and in his heart he wished he was still living here. A witch came out of a house in front of them. "Cirth Blackthorn!" she yelled, her voice full of joy. "It's been so long!"  
  
He looked at her face for a few moments. Then: "Dignity Weald! I remember you!"  
  
Diamond coughed. "Business, Cirth. Business."  
  
"Sure, yeah. I'll see you around, Dig." They continued walking. ~I'm home,~ Cirth thought. ~I'm home.~ And it felt like it. He knew and loved every crack and hole in the road. They came to their meeting place. The Green Dragon pub. He'd enjoyed many a drink from here in the past. As they stepped in forty pairs of eyes swung round to regard them. A couple of men regarded Diamond with cool interest, but ignored Cirth. He saw their informant, Ethan Nyoka, in a corner. He was smoking, his dark skin glowing with sweat in the hot pub. It wasn't exactly well lit, and a strange incense was burning on the bar.  
  
"Ethan," Cirth said. "What've we got."  
  
Ethan scowled. "*I* have found out that Thorpe, Anita, will be out hunting in the east quarter tonight. Here she is." He pulled out a photo of a mousy teenager, no-one special. "Vampire hunter of the highest degree," Ethan added. "You'll be lucky to survive her."  
  
"And you'd know all about that, would you?" Cirth said scornfully.  
  
"Actually, I've seen her in action. She's good. Doesn't bother me, though. She's not bothered with little snakes like me who mind their own business and get on with it."  
  
"You *don't* mind your own business, though." Diamond put in. "You've killed enough of them yourself."  
  
Ethan shrugged and waved his joint around emphatically. "She doesn't know that, does she? Kill her good, Cirth." He said with uncharacteristic intensity. "I have an, uh, personal reason to hete her." Cirth didn't want to ask.  
  
"Anyway" said Cirth, standing up. "I want to see my sister this afternoon. If I get the girl, I'll pay you tomorrow, Ethan. See you tomorrow, Di."  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Cirth saw many familiar faces as he walked to Nettle's house. Many people waved. It was like a bloody blast from the past. Black Flowers was a place of contrast. Some houses were abandoned and dilapidated, most were inhabited and dilapidated. A few looked relatively like ordinary council houses. The odd one was pretty nice, clearly inhabited by Night World chiefs. Some in the north were bordering on mansions, and they really stood out. Cirth lived in the North, where all the rich ones lived. He considered himself a kind of lord now, and god knows Nettle acted like a lady.  
  
His own house wasn't too shabby. It was pretty big, and had been extended. He didn't have the keys with him, so he had to knock on the door. A beautiful sixteen year old answered. She had long red hair, and eyes the colour of nettle leaves. "Hey sis." He said. "Miss me?"  
  
"Cirth!" she said, her voice more surprised than pleased. What are you doing here?"  
  
"I was in the area, and thought I'd just call in to see how you are."  
  
"Oh," Nettle said, and stepped back. "Well, come in. I'll make you a drink."  
  
Cirth stepped inside. Nettle had done it up really nicely. "Have you been getting my payments okay?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. How's work?" she replied.  
  
"Oh, the usual. There are plenty of opportunities at the minute with all the Daybreakers around. Just the other day I had to kill a witch who swore a vermin was a soulmate. It's getting worrying."  
  
"I think it's quite romantic," Nettle said as she led him into the living room. She disappeared into the kitchen. He could hear her banging about. He sat down, slipping off his jacket.  
  
"Maybe, but it's illegal. And if it carries on, who knows? Our whole way of life could be destroyed."  
  
"Hey, I wasn't about to do it myself," she called from the other room. "I just think the whole soulmate ideas cute. If I meet mine, he'll have to be a law-abiding vampire."  
  
"I didn't think you got a choice." He said with a laugh.  
  
She re-entered the room, balancing a tray. He took a mug of coffee from her. "So," she asked. "Who're you bumping off tonight?"  
  
"Anita Thorpe."  
  
Nettle's reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened, and she dropped her cup. Coffee spilled all over the white carpet. "You *what*?" she yelled. "You can't kill Anita. It's impossible. She's hade like, ten after her in the last three months. She killed them *all*. Cirth, you can't kill her. She's indestructible. You'll die."  
  
Cirth wasn't worried. "Look, Nettle. I won't get killed, I promise you. I'm not planning on dying any time soon."  
  
"You'll die." His sister repeated earnestly. "Don't do this Cirth. You're my big brother. I don't want you to die."  
  
He shrugged. "I don't have time to argue, Net. I have to go feed. I'll see you in the morning, I promise."  
  
"Goodbye, then." She said, her lip trembling. "I love you."  
  
He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you soon." He said firmly. And with that he left the house.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Cirth really wasn't worried. He was the best. He'd had harder jobs than this, and he'd always pulled it off. He went down into the Daybreak quarter. He needed blood, and that was the easiest place to get a human. He looked around. The whole atmosphere here was different. More guarded, somehow. Ah well, he could find some unsuspecting human. He'd hardly thought this when a young one turned the corner in front of him. With a quick look around, Cirth reached out with his mind. The man was wearing some kind of armour, and carrying a wooden spear tipped with silver. Cirth frowned. Some kind of Daybreak guard? Ah well, it didn't matter. This man wasn't responsive to mind control, but very responsive to being hit extremely hard on the back of the head. Cirth dragged the poor unconscious guy out of the south quarter.  
  
As soon as he was safely back in the north, he whirled round and, sharpening his fangs, bit into the man's neck. He was too hurt to struggle or run. By the time Cirth dropped him, he was dead. Cirth felt no guilt, it was only a human, and a Daybreaker at that. He dragged the body back to Disneyland and carried on his way. It was getting dark, and he had a job to do. 


	2. Birthday Girl

Sorry  
  
It was dark, and the only sounds were Anita's footsteps, the faint roar of the road far away, and the very, very faint shuffling of the vampire who had been following her for the last ten minutes. You had to admit, there was something almost appealing about their arrogance, she mused as she stepped into the pool of light created by a yellow streetlight. He was about 100 feet behind her, and she turned to face him.  
  
Anita wasn't incredibly attractive, and she didn't really care. In her line of work things like that just didn't really matter. Her brown hair was tied back loosely, her jeans were baggy and ripped and her t-shirt was unremarkable. The vampire behind her was looking slightly perturbed that she'd known she was being followed, but walking with the easy grace of a hunter sure of his prey's weakness.  
  
"My brother," she said, "is going to be really, really pissed at you."  
  
She could see his face now; he wasn't as handsome as some vampires, which helped her keep her cool. The devastatingly beautiful ones got her mad, she couldn't stand that such monsters were so beautiful. But he was normal. Breathe.  
  
"I mean, I'm beating him now. Congratulations, you're the 15th assassin they've sent after me. You have the double honour of being the first vampire I'll kill as a nineteen year old. It's a momentous occasion. What? Aren't you going to sing happy birthday to me?"  
  
She whipped a crossbow out of the satchel by her side, pointing it levelly at his chest. Damn, he was wearing some kind of breastplate. She raised her arm a little, and fired a bolt right at his neck. He spluttered a little as it passed through, but the hole was already healing. By the time it had, she was on him. Anita hated vampires more than anything, and as she jumped she reached for the curved wooden knife at her side. She slashed down. The assassin, she thought, looked so much better without his head.  
  
She left the body where it was. She knew the Night World well enough to know it would be gone by morning.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Anita entered the Flowers Estate, where the streetlamps ended. A low mist covered the ground. ~Christ~ she thought ~It looks like a scene from a horror film!~ She whistled ad she walked, the only other person on the street was Ripple Breedlove, a quiet, mousy little witch whose dirty blonde hair shone with grease in the half light. Anita frowned slightly. As a rule the Cleansers didn't bother with witches. Especially not pathetic ones like Ripple. She, however, didn't realise this, and as soon as she saw Anita swinging her knife as she walked down the dreary streets, she ducked into someone's porch and stayed there in mute terror until Anita was gone.  
  
As Anita came to the house she shared with her brother, her best friend Kim fell into step beside her. She was grinning from ear to ear; she'd obviously had a good night.  
  
"Five" she began with. "I think I got the one who killed that little boy last week. You?"  
  
"One, but he was an assassin."  
  
Kim laughed, shaking her blonde mane that usually had Anita spitting with jealousy. ~Kim can't help being beautiful,~ she told herself for the thousandth time. "Mark's going to kill you!" Kim said in a sing song voice. Anita shrugged.  
  
"He should get out more, he'd have a higher chance of getting killed." Both girls laughed as they came into the porch of Anita's house. It was an old house, like the whole estate, but it had a reinforced steel door to keep out any night time visitors. Anita pulled out her keys. "You coming up?" She asked. Kim shook her head. "Things to do, people to see. I'll be over fist thing tomorrow for Big Chief Mark's lecture." Anita smiled.  
  
"See you then. I need to check Meg did her homework and all that." Kim waved and walked off. Anita let herself in. "Helloo-oo!" she yelled. There was no reply. She went into the living room. Gareth was stretched out on the sofa, moving his head in time to the Stereophonics blaring out from the hi-fi in the corner. He waved and carried on reading a magazine. Meg was laid out on the floor revising some French verbs. She jumped up.  
  
"Anita! How did it go? Did you kill any vampires? When will I be able to come out with you? Was it scary?"  
  
Meg's blonde curls bounced up and down as she talked. ~No-one would ever know~ Anita thought, ~That this girl saw her parent's throats torn out by werewolves six months ago.~  
  
Anita had stumbled across the scenario almost by accident; she'd been hunting a vampire. She'd slipped into some human's house she was sure it had gone into, but instead found blood everywhere, and the bodies of two adult humans. Three wolves were trying to get into a wardrobe, where thirteen year old Meg had barricaded herself. Anita had fought off the wolves single handed, a feat not even Mark could have managed. But she had. She had taken Meg under her wing and helped her to deal with it. Meg was now a kind of apprentice vampire hunter.  
  
"It went fine," she said aloud. "I killed one vampire. You'll be able to come soon, I promise. No, cos I'm not scared of anything."  
  
"*I* can think of something you're scared of." Gareth said. "It begins with 'M' and ends in 'ark'."  
  
Anita rolled her eyes. "Where is Mark?"  
  
"Here." Mark came in from the kitchen, drinking a mug of coffee. "How come you only got one?"  
  
"I wandered all over the quarter. Nothing, but then an *assassin* followed me home. I got him."  
  
"Damn!" Mark yelled, humour lighting up his blue eyes. "I'll have to surrender my 'Most Wanted' crown."  
  
"Oooh, I almost forgot." Gareth yelled. "Happy Birthday, An. I'd get you a present, but you know, no money."  
  
"It's okay," she said. "I don't mind."  
  
Mark looked at his watch. "'Nita, you could take Meg out now, if you want. It's only half ten."  
  
Meg started jumping around with joy. "Really? Oh wow, this is going to be sooo cool!" Anita grinned.  
  
"I haven't said yes yet." Meg's face fell. "But I'll take you along."  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
"Why don't you wear all the black ninja gear all the other hunters do?" Meg asked.  
  
"Don't need to. See, I don't officially exist. My dad was a vampire hunter and he never registered that I was born. So I don't have to worry about identity and so on."  
  
"Cool," Meg said.  
  
"And besides," Anita added, "our gang just don't disguise ourselves. You have to have suicidal tendencies to join."  
  
"Like me?" asked Meg. "I don't mind dying."  
  
"Good. That way you won't be as scared.  
  
It was clear she was though. Meg was clutching her stake like a teddy bear and shaking from head to foot. Anita was worried about her, but surely it was natural to be terrified on your first hunt? She could still remember hers. Her dad had taken her, and they'd found a vampire. Her dad had held her down while Anita staked her. He'd been so proud of her. Within six months she'd been hunting on her own.  
  
It was a quiet night. They wandered through the broken streets, the only light coming from the moon and stars, and the occasional crack of light from behind someone's curtains. When they found some vampires they were taken completely by surprise. Four of them staggered out of the Green Dragon, a local pub. Meg had been taught to know the signs, and raised her stake. Anita raised her crossbow. She shot down the toughest looking one before they had time to react to them. She hissed "Stay close to me, kill them if you can."  
  
They jumped at the three remaining ones, who were staring at them, a new expression overcoming drunken surprise: anger and malice. Two of them jumped on Anita. The other went for Meg. For a while Anita disappeared into the battle frenzy. Their opponents weren't armed, but they were tough. She staked one of them in the chest quickly, before she noticed that the third one had sharpened up his fangs and was beating Meg easily. She yelled her name a few times, but her own enemy was keeping her busy, and it took a few cuts and a sprained wrist before she managed to plunge a wooden sword into him.  
  
By this time the third vamp had managed to get his teeth into Meg, and she had gone a strange shade of blue. Then she saw that he had his own wrist at Meg's throat. Anita used her sword to decapitate him, but not before Meg had gone completely blue. She picked her up as though she was a baby and began to run home as fast as she could.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
She came to her house in ten minutes, and tried desperately to open the locks as fast as she could. "Help me!" she yelled as she burst in. Mark, Kim and Debby were all there, and they jumped up as soon as they saw her.  
  
"What *happened*?" Debby demanded frantically.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, oh I'm so sorry," was all Anita could say. They lay Meg down on the sofa. Her lips were purple, her skin had a bluish tinge. Her hair fell across her face, her eyes were closed. A faint trickle of blood as issuing from her mouth. She looked dead. Mark checked her pulse and breathing. A stricken look passed over his face. "No!" he whispered. "Oh, no. Oh Anita, I'm sorry. She—she's dead."  
  
"What about CPR?!" Kim demanded.  
  
"Too late." Mark said. His voice was so… final.  
  
Anita sank into and armchair. "I killed her." She said.  
  
"No, there was no way you could have known," Debby said, sliding her arms around her. "If there was anything you could have done, you'd have done it."  
  
Anita couldn't take it in. Meg's French notebook was still on the floor. How could she be dead? Anita felt cold, and wondered why. She was shaking and gasping. Eventually Debby got up and made her a cup of tea, which she couldn't drink. Mark called a 'friend', and Kim held her hand. Gareth, Peter, Farzana and Daniel arrived, and tried to comfort her.  
  
She stared out the window until the faintest tinges of pink illuminated the dark sky. Meg was still lying still on the couch. Mark said gently "Nita, you know what I have to do. I'm sorry. Don't get upset, will you? It's just in case."  
  
Anita nodded without saying a word. Mark went over to Meg—but no, it wasn't *Meg* anymore, it was just a corpse. He took her stake, which was still clutching in her lifeless hands. He raised it above the body. Anita closed her eyes. Kim gripped her hand tightly. She heard a sickening squelch as he brought it down. They couldn't risk her coming back. Anita kept her eyes closed, and in the end she fell asleep.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Mark's friend Connor arrived. "Sorry," he said, but there was no sympathy in his voice. Kim looked at him suspiciously. He looked like a wolf to her. "But time heals all ills." He continued. He looked doubtfully at Anita. She was sleeping now, but sat bolt upright. Kim had gone, and taken the full cup of cold tea with her.  
  
"I hope you're right." He said. Connor shrugged. He took Meg's body with him when he left. ~It's such a shame,~ Mark thought. ~Meg was so young.~ Not for the first time in his life, Mark wondered why they even bothered. 


	3. Ripples in the Pool

1 Ripples in the Pond  
  
Ripple Breedlove sat on the hard chair in her smelly, dirty kitchen. The brown wallpaper was peeling off the wall, the only things on the worktops were a crisp multipack and a tiny camping stove. There was a bare table, which needed rolled up paper under three legs to stop it from falling over, never mind wobbling. Two broken, hard chairs were the only forms of seating in her house, besides the toilet. She was eating a pack o crisps, wondering how the hell her life had come to this.  
  
She hadn't been born 'Ripple Breedlove'. She'd been born Rachel Moore, but now she felt so separate from that girl she'd renamed herself. After all, Rachel Moore had been a happy, middle class human who dreamed of being a model. Ripple Breedlove was a depressed, poverty-stricken witch who dreamed of having enough food to get through next week. It had all begun when Joseph Breedlove had arrived at her school. They'd hit it off straight away, and within a month they were a definite item. Rachel had loved him. It felt like every time she saw him, she was flying.  
  
Then he'd broken up with her. "I just think we're too close, you know? I don't want to get serious."  
  
"Why?" she'd wailed. "I thought you loved me."  
  
"It's because I love you we have to break up." He'd snapped. "I *can't* love you."  
  
Strangely enough, she'd learnt the truth from Circle Daybreak. Their agent, Crystal Jira, had told her that he was a witch. She'd been very convincing. After all, Crystal was a vampire. ~The truth is~ Ripple thought. ~I *wanted* to believe. I wanted the world to be special. And look where it got me.~  
  
Crystal had told her plenty of other things. She was a special agent dedicated to finding lost witches. She wasn't human. She was a witch, and related in some way to Joseph to top it all. She had tried to ignore her heritage at first. But Joseph wouldn't let it rest. He'd insisted he loved her, and now he knew the truth they could be together. Rachel couldn't believe that. So she ran.  
  
She'd packed a bag one night, and left a note for her parents. And she'd simply wandered around, dossing on the streets for a while. She'd ended up in the Black Flowers estate by following a vampire home. Now she lived right in the heart of it, and there was no way out without a pass. And as Ripple was a witch who couldn't use her powers, the chances of her getting one were millions to one.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Ripple snapped out of her trance. There was no point worrying about the past, she couldn't change it. She slipped on her jacket and went outside. She walked a lot. She had nothing else to do, after all. The only way she made any money was selling information to Circle Daybreak. She had become one of them, she didn't know why. But most of them were in a blissful state of denial. They thought they could win, that good would always triumph over evil. She knew this wasn't true. A quote drifted into her mind: 'The good ended happily, the bad ended unhappily, that is what fiction means.' Oscar Wilde, she thought vaguely. She stepped into the Green Dragon. Odd. Neil wasn't there. He usually was. A girl was sat in his usual place, looking seriously agitated.  
  
When Ripple stepped in, the girl waved her over. "Are you Ripple Breedlove?" She asked.  
  
"Who's asking?"  
  
"Jemima Webb. Code word: Valiant mouse."  
  
Ripple nodded. Why the code word was so stupid, she had no idea. "Where's Neil?" she asked. "He usually meets me here."  
  
Jemima looked at her oddly. "They found him dead yesterday evening. Some bastard had just ripped his throat out. We're working on it."  
  
Ripple went into efficient spy mode. "I'll find out who it was. I have a vague idea. Some guy was in here last night, an assassin from out there." She gestured her hands, indicating the world outside the estate. "He won't know that Daybreak killers usually end up mysteriously dead a few days later. I'll ask around."  
  
Jemima nodded. "Right. I'll be here tomorrow night. See you then." She slipped out. Ripple carried on staring at the door. She could only wait. She waited for two hours, barely moving. Eventually, they arrived. Gareth Barker and Kim Fawkes. They looked oddly strained. She got up. "You wouldn't have happened to have encountered any assassin's lately, would you?" she hissed in Kim's ear.  
  
Kim looked around. "Anita got one last night. Now clear off, Breedlove, before I stick a knife in your gut." Ripple took the hint and left. That had been easy. Now for stage two. She found the Watchman on duty. It was Ralph, a werewolf. Good, she knew him, but he didn't know her. "Hey you," she said. He looked up. "Yeah, you. You see a vampire wander into the Daybreak quarter last night, possibly dragging a human with brown hair and blue eyes?"  
  
He looked slightly surprised. "Uh, yeah." He said. "'Bout nine o'clock. Why?" his eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
  
"Oh, just wondering. Night." She wandered away. Ripple was a good spy. She didn't have to try. She wasn't *memorable*. She doubted if Sora Keller, the leader of CD in the Black Flowers, would look at her twice if she saw her in the street. She would be able to question Ralph again, and he wouldn't remember her. No tricks. No magic. Just good old fashioned nobodyness.  
  
Ripple shoved her hands in he pockets. She was wearing a tattered pair of khaki pants, a t-shirt, a thick jumper and an ancient cagoule. She kept her head down. She didn't know where she was going. She was just walking. She covered the whole east quarter in a matter of minutes. Then she went north, looking at the beautiful mansions of the rich Night Worlders, wondering hat kind of food they were all eating. She was starving.  
  
She wasn't really looking where she was going, when she crashed into someone and fell over. "Watch where you're going, she yelled, annoyed. "Sorry," came a male voice which sounded oddly familiar. She looked up. The speaker was quite tall. It was too dark to see his face. He reached out a hand to pull her up. As their hands touched, Rachel woke up again inside Ripple. It was Joseph. And he seemed to be reaching into her soul. He pulled her up.  
  
"Rachel," he said gently. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Ripple felt lost for words. "It's Ripple now." She murmured. "Ripple Breedlove."  
  
"oh." He said. He didn't seem to know what to say. "Rache—Ripple, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mess up your life. I'll go if you want me to."  
  
"I don't." she said. Ripple realised she was crying. She sat down on the pavement. She started to cry. "And I don't want you to call me Ripple, either. Don't leave me, Joe. Take me home."  
  
He pulled her up again. Sparks flew. ~Oh, god.~ *Rachel* thought. ~All this time, and my soulmate was under my nose.~  
  
/Is that what you think we are?\ She could hear his voice in her head. It was coming through her hand, shooting up her arm and into her head.  
  
/Yes\ she replied. /I love you, Joe.\  
  
"What are we going to do?" he asked aloud. "I'm with Circle Daybreak now." Rachel laughed. "So am I."  
  
"Then you can come to my house." Joseph said firmly.  
  
Rachel suddenly felt shy. "Where do you live?"  
  
"In the Daybreak quarter." He said. "I know it's not the nicest place in the world, but it's where we're needed. What do you do for Daybreak?"  
  
"I'm a spy." She stopped suddenly. "Wait. What are you doing here?"  
  
"I was sent to look for you. Well, to look for Ripple Breedlove. I didn't realise she was really Rachel. I suppose rightfully you are a Breedlove. Do you think this counts as incest?"  
  
"I hope not." Rachel murmured, and kissed him in the street, not caring if anyone saw.  
  
He grabbed her hand. "Come on." He said mischievously. He began to run, dragging her along behind her. She grinned and ran with him, truly happy for the first time in two years.  
  
~I'm not going to give up spying.~ she thought. ~But we'll do it together now.~  
  
And together the ran into the night. 


	4. A Respectable Business

1 I don't own the NW, and am not making any money from it. General night world spoiler, nothing particular.  
  
Part Summary: A werewolf learns to break free from his domineering father  
  
2  
  
3  
  
4 A Respectable Business  
  
Connor was a corpse collector. Not exactly the best of jobs, but it was the family business. His dad was his boss, and dad had decided Connor would follow in his footsteps. It was best to do what he said.  
  
Connor could usually get the best pickings for himself, but everything else they sold to other werewolves and shapeshifters. Connor was a wolf himself, but his business contacts were mostly human. Like Mark Thorpe for example. Connor had no idea how he survived that friendship, but he managed it somehow.  
  
He was pushing a special little cart through the west quarter. Hunter territory. He licked his lips and looked around nervously. It was hard to disguise the shape in his cart as anything other than a dead body. Connor had no taste for killing personally, but some over-eager young hunter might not know that.  
  
He breathed a sigh of relief as he crossed the invisible line into the north quarter. His dad's little shop was on the corner. 'Rudy Connor and Sons Ltd.' Read the sign above the door. He went in. The shop was like a 24 hour supermarket, Connor thought. A couple of panther shifters were looking in the freezer at the frozen organs. One of them looked at him with interest. "A fresh one?" he asked, drooling slightly. Connor looked away in distaste.  
  
"Yeah, but you're not getting any. They'll be on the shelf by morning."  
  
The panther shrugged. "Suit yerself." He picked up a frozen liver. Connor's brother Rudy II looked up from the book he was reading. The panther was just paying as Connor slipped into the back. His father was carefully extracting the innards of a corpse. Rudy Connor I was a handsome, greying man with an aura of authority and power. Connor had always felt slightly in awe of him. Mostly he was just plain scared, though. "One human girl, vampire hunter, blood drained, precautionary stake through heart."  
  
His father looked up in annoyance. "Heart destroyed? Bugger, they always fetch the most. We can't sell it now. You can't have any." Connor wondered, not for the first time, how his father could be so heartless. ~Argh, bad pun.~ He thought. But it was true. His father didn't seem to care that they made their money from other people's misery. That poor girl had been devastated at this one's death. And he was profiting from it. Surely that was wrong?  
  
"You can start to carve her up." His dad was saying.  
  
"Okay." Connor said, no expression in his voice. He laid the body on one of the twelve metal tables in the long black room. It was very sterile, that room. Everything was white or chrome, everything germ-free and clean. He put on a pair of plastic gloves and a disposable apron and got to work.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
By the time Connor had finished, it was midday. The sun did little to light up the streets, it only served to illuminate the permanent low fog that lay on the ground. Connor leaned on the door frame of the back entrance, looking out. Gods, what was he *doing* here. He wanted wide open fields, where he could hunt like nature intended. It had been nearly three months since his last change. Connor was a scavenger, in the body of a hunter. But there wasn't a lot he could do. Connor sighed. He threw away his gloves and apron, and sat on the step.  
  
A couple of people came, flogging various organs, mostly vampires who brought their latest kills there. Connor laid them out, but couldn't bring himself to carve them up. He went up to his room and tried to sleep. But his window had been smashed and the wind was blowing in. He groaned and went back downstairs. He didn't have any *energy* today. He relieved Rudy up the till and tried to be helpful to the customers. But his mind was on that girl, Nick's sister. He was having a serious attack of the conscience, and he felt like shit.  
  
The bell rang as a young, female werewolf stepped in. She looked nervous. "Uh, hi." She said. "I need something to eat."  
  
Connor waved a hand at the freezer. "Knock yourself out. Hearts, livers, kidneys, we've got the lot."  
  
The girl nodded, looking sick. "You okay?" he asked, not really caring.  
  
"No." she said. "I just, y'know, don't like the idea of it."  
  
"Haven't you been doing it your whole life?" he asked, interested now.  
  
"No," she replied, her voice oddly choked. "I only got turned into a—a—a werewolf last week." Connor stared at her. It was obvious, really, when you looked. After all, how many blonde werewolves did you meet?"  
  
"What's your name?" he asked.  
  
"Trish." She replied, choking back tears. "What's yours?"  
  
"Connor. Zev Connor. Did you *want* to become a werewolf?"  
  
"No!" she wailed. I was just a normal human. I was a goddamn vegetarian!"  
  
She was really pretty, Connor thought. He vaguely reached out a hand to touch hers, a simple gesture of comfort. But as their hands touched, something happened. A sudden warmth spread up his arm. The world slid out of focus. But what slid into focus was her mind. He could sense it. Glittering away, beautiful and tingly. He wanted the feeling to last forever.  
  
But she pulled away. "What are you doing?" she asked, not so much annoyed as nervous. "Is that another Night World thing I should know about?" Connor shook his head. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he wanted it to happen again.  
  
"Trish, are you doing anything tonight?" He asked impulsively. He'd never asked a girl out before, and wasn't sure if he was doing it right.  
  
"No," she said, surprised. "Why?"  
  
"Do you want to, like, go out or something. You don't have to if you don't want to."  
  
Trish laughed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. That's the first normal thing anyone's said to me all week. "I'll see you in the Green Dragon at eight."  
  
She practically flew out of the shop, forgetting what she'd come in for. Connor gaped in amazement. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. He was going on a real, live date with a pretty girl. "Holy hell," he muttered under his breath.  
  
"What?" his brother walked in.  
  
"I'm going on a date tonight. With a girl." He felt oddly proud. Rudy's girlfriend Tala was nowhere near a pretty as Trish.  
  
"What?!" his bother said again. "How much did you bribe her? You're just lucky it's your night off."  
  
Connor was grinning like a moron and he knew it. But that didn't matter. He had a date with a pretty girl.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Connor was desperately nervous. He wasn't exactly Mr. Sociable, he had very few friends. He was the kind of guy most people would dismiss as 'quiet' or 'shy'. He certainly felt it now. He decided to dress casual, after all they were only going to the Green Dragon. Rudy liked in while he was combing his short brown hair.  
  
"I won't tell Dad." He said. "You know he won't like this."  
  
"So? He can't control my life forever. I'm going out tonight whether he likes it or not. But don't tell him." Rudy grinned.  
  
"You're right. But… be careful. You know what he's like. Don't rub it in."  
  
Connor smiled at his brother. "Thanks, Rudy. You're a mate."  
  
"Likewise, Zev."  
  
They both grinned. They were both commonly known by their surname, they were the only ones allowed to call each other by their first. "You better get going," said Rudy. "Good luck."  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Trish was waiting for him outside the Green Dragon. She was eying the door with dubious terror, He didn't blame her, some of the people going in and out were downright scary. "Hi," he said, coming up behind her. She gave a yelp of surprise.  
  
"Hi," she replied. "Are you *sure* about this place?"  
  
"Positive. It's the most relaxed place here. Even vampire hunters come here."  
  
Trish went white. "Hunters? They won't—won't—"  
  
"Nah. Too busy with actual vampires. Want to go in?"  
  
They entered the pub together. It was early evening, so it was crowded with people of all sorts. He saw Kim and Gareth talking to that wimpy witch, and waved. They didn't reply.  
  
"So," he said. "Want a drink?"  
  
"I'll have a beer." Connor ordered two.  
  
"So," he said, looking at her. "How exactly did you end up a werewolf?" She looked tearful again. "It's alright," he added quickly. "You don't have to tell you if you don't want."  
  
"No, I do," she said. "I want to tell someone. I, uh, had a one night stand with one." She blushed slightly. "We were really, really drunk. When I woke up, I had claws. And, and, I had fur. And I was here in the estate." She started to cry.  
  
Connor kicked himself inwardly. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to make you cry. Sorry. Sorry."  
  
"No, it's okay." She said, wiping her eyes. "It was stupid. I've got no-one to blame but myself. I take it you were born one?"  
  
"Yes. My dad runs the shop." She nodded.  
  
"Do you, er, hunt and stuff?"  
  
He shook his head bitterly. "Never got the chance. That's the way of the estate. Easily in, difficult to get out."  
  
They were quiet for a while, thinking about their problems. He reached out to hold her hand. As their skin touched, a feeling like static electricity shot up Connors arm. He jerked in surprise, but then clasped it tightly. It felt good, like holding her hand cut him off from his father, and the unsavoury nature of the pub.  
  
"Why do they live like this?" Trish asked quietly. I mean, I've heard all about the Night World laws and stuff, and to a certain extent I understand them. But why have you holed yourselves up in this shit tip?"  
  
"Hey, this is my home you're talking about!" he said indignantly. "But you're right. And the thing is, I don't really know. I mean, things were okay at first. This was pretty much like any other council estate in the 50s and 60s. But then people seemed to stop caring. The mist came, and then the vampire hunters. People just seemed to stop caring about each other as well. That's why I admire Circle Daybreak."  
  
"Connor… what exactly is Circle Daybreak?"  
  
"They're sort of an organisation. For werewolves and vampires and witches and shifters who want us all to get on with humans. Enemies of the Night World. They're a *lot* bigger here than they are anywhere else. Mostly they're completely hidden, but here… it's different somehow. They're strong. They can't beat us and we can't beat them. It's stalemate, so we mostly leave each other alone and use guerrilla tactics. Its kind of hard to explain in one go."  
  
"I'm a human."  
  
"Were." He corrected. He didn't want to think of her as a human. Didn't want to think about Night World law. "Look on the bright size." He said. "If you were a human, I wouldn't be able to do this."  
  
And he kissed her gently on the lips. She drew back in surprise at the feeling of warmth which seemed to almost numb her lips. Then she began to kiss him back.  
  
"That makes it seem a lot more worthwhile," she said with a small giggle. Then she frowned and sat back on the booth. "If you admire Circle Daybreak so much, why haven't you joined?"  
  
"It's my dad." He said, aware of how stupid this excuse sounded. "He has this thing about family honour, and keeping our business in the family. He'd disown me."  
  
Trish gave him the oddest look. "If he'd disown you for standing up for your beliefs, why are you conforming to his?"  
  
Connor felt his hand jerk. He sat back in kind of shock. Trish's blue eyes widen at his reaction, their silvery lashes fluttering in an unconsciously sensual way. Connor felt as if a chasm had opened in his stomach. As though with one sentence everything he believed in had been thrown into jeopardy.  
  
He turned slightly away from Trish, not wanting to look at those eyes any longer. "I—I need to think." He muttered thickly. "I should go now. Come back to the shop, oh, some time next week. I don't know what to do, oh god I'm so confused."  
  
As he babbled he stood up and shoved his purse into his jacket pocket. He slid out of the booth and walked out of the pub with his head down, ignoring the funny looks, and Trish's shouts of "Connor? Connor!" There was so much he had to consider. 


	5. All For Love

Disclaimer: The Night World and all other concepts belong to the lovely LJ Smith  
  
Note 1: Thankyou so much to everyone who's commented on earlier parts, you lot are all stars!  
  
Note 2: This story is all planned out up till about part 12, and although it has become a continuous story, these earlier parts introduce a lot of characters, so it kind of ends up having a very large cast at the end…  
  
  
  
Summary: Kerry Adlestrop's soulmate is dying, so she takes drastic measures to save her life  
  
1  
  
2  
  
3 All for Love  
  
Kerry looked up at the girl sat opposite her. She was, as all Kerry's patients did, complaining profusely. Sometimes she wondered why the hell she had ever wanted to be a psychologist, especially one who helped humans deal with discovering the Night World. All she did was listen to humans and newly made vampires, werewolves or shapeshifters complain about how they had never known about it. But today was a bad day. Her client, Trish somethingorother, was going all moon-eyed about her fabulous soulmate. Which, of course, kept reminding Kerry of her own fabulous soulmate. Her fabulous soulmate who was dying of cancer even as they spoke. It made Kerry want to scream. In the end, she couldn't stand any more sentimental drivel. She simply stood up and walked out of the room, leaving an open mouthed werewolf behind her.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry, she's sleeping now; you can't see her."  
  
The nurse was kind but firm. Kerry gripped the bunch of flowers tightly in her hand. There was a veritable garden around Line's bed now, but Kerry always had to bring something when she visited her soulmate. Line had always loved flowers.  
  
"Please, I won't disturb her or anything. I just want to be near her, maybe talk to her, make the most of the time we have left." Kerry's voice squeaked oddly on the last word. Her soulmate was dying, and the pain it caused her was unimaginable. Line was like a light shining in her endless life. When they'd met she'd been so full of life. She could remember their first day together so clearly.  
  
It had been raining over the estate, and was even darker than usual. Kerry made her way to the rehab centre, trying to dodge the huge raindrops falling from the lightening-laced sky. She arrived in reception and taken the clipboard with the details of her next patient on. Line had been her latest, a Norwegian human who'd seen a normal looking man sprout a tail and turn into a leopard. She was sitting in her dishevelled office, a broken umbrella by her side. She looked terrified.  
  
At first there had been a wall between them, a worry about vampires on Line's part, as well as the fact her English wasn't brilliant. But as soon a Kerry said her name, pronouncing it like a straight line, they had laughed. "It's Lee-nah." had broken the ice. And they'd been best friends ever since. It had taken a while for them to realise they were soulmates, though. Even now, Kerry doubted it. There had been no flashes of light, no electrical sparks. Just an overwhelming sense of calm. As she'd explained to Neil a few months before "It's like whenever I'm with her, for the first time in my life I belong. We don't need words, and I love her so much."  
  
"Probably because she was a girl," Neil had replied helpfully. "I mean, it must have been pretty weird to find out your one and only wasn't a tall dark handsome male."  
  
"Hmmm." Was all Kerry had said to that.  
  
  
  
Whenever she thought anything like that, Kerry invariably broke down in tears. Neil was dead, killed by some assassin. And as for Line… The leukaemia had come on so suddenly, and there was no cure. Her Leenee was dying.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
"Please just let me see her," she said in the present. Her eyes were filling with tears, and it was getting harder to breathe. The witch nurse began to look more sympathetic. The Daybreak hospital made allowances for soulmates to be together, especially when the patient was as near to death as Line was. She nodded abruptly and walked away. Breathing a sigh of relief, Kerry wiped her eyes and walked along the ward.  
  
Line was in the critical care ward. She passed mutilated agents, diseased humans, all manners of injuries were found here. Line's bed was the most colourful. She had a multi-coloured patchwork quilt on her bed. Her pale hand was resting on it. The flowers—Lilies mostly, Line's favourite—gave it added beauty. Then there was Line herself. She was sleeping, and it seemed to Kerry that she was even more serene and beautiful than the day before. Kerry sat down in the chair next to the bed. Line opened her eyes.  
  
"Kerry," she said weakly. "I'm glad you came. How are you, love?"  
  
"I'm fine. How are you? Have you—"  
  
"No." Line said, with added vigour. "I haven't changed my mind. I love you, Kerry, but I don't want to be a vampire."  
  
Kerry's throat closed. "Please, Leenee, please. I don't want to live without you. Please."  
  
"No, Kerry. Sorry. You know I'm too old to survive the change. I'll maybe find you next time around." She broke into a smile, but it was that sad smile she seemed to be using so much lately. "I'm tired, Kerry. I'm so tired. I think I'll just go to sleep."  
  
Kerry took her hand and used her powers to send her to sleep. Line fell asleep with a smile on her face. She looked down at her for a few minutes. This girl had brought so much happiness to her life. How could she just die?  
  
In that one moment, Kerridwen Adlestrop made a decision.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Line was sleeping, drifting. She'd come to the hospital almost a year ago now, and she and Kerry had been full of hope that the famous healing powers of witches would save her. But finally she'd learned the truth. They could do healing spells on her till the cows came home and it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference. She was going to die, and the only way out was becoming a vampire. She didn't no why she didn't want to, after all Kerry was. But she'd spent too much of her life as an ordinary human, and she just couldn't become a vampire now.  
  
Suddenly she stirred. She was moving. It didn't feel like the smooth, comforting movement of the nurses turning her. She opened her eyes, and everything was red. She widened her eyes. Kerry had been wearing a red shirt. ~Oh shit.~  
  
"Kerry?" she croaked, looking up. Kerry was carrying her, supporting her like a baby. "Kerry, where are we going?"  
  
"Shhh. they'll hear us." Through their bond Line could feel Kerry using her powers. ~Oh no, oh no, oh no.~ the thought was circling round her head like a mantra. Suddenly Kerry looked down, and with a deranged kind of smile, whispered "Go to sleep."  
  
Line slept again. When she woke up, she was lying on a couch. It was dark, but she could see the darker outline of Kerry. They were definitely inside, she thought, probably in one of the abandoned houses in the east. Line felt sick in her stomach. She could guess what Kerry was about to do.  
  
"No," she wailed. "Kerry, it won't work!"  
  
"Shhh. Shhh. You'll feel different afterwards. I'm… I'm doing this for you. To save your life. I don't know any other way!"  
  
"Don't save me then!" Line burst out. "Just let me die happily, and catch me next time I come around. You know I'm too old! You know it, Kerry!" Kerry came over and put a hand on her face. There was some colour in her cheeks now, at least.  
  
"I know you don't want to now, but please don't struggle. The last thing I want to do is hurt you."  
  
Then she bit her.  
  
She was amazingly fast. One minute Line was just lying there, and the next there was a piercing pain in her neck. And for the first time in her life, Line *believed* what everyone had been telling her. It was like Kerry's soul had been laid bare in front of her.  
  
Kerry's mind was distraught, lost. /Kerry\ she said. Line had gone from wanting to run away from her to wanting to comfort her. /Kerry, it's okay\ She visualised herself blowing light into all the dark places of her mind. There were so many of them… Line knew Kerry had not exactly been the nicest person in the world till she'd joined Daybreak. But some of the things she'd done were terrible.  
  
Kerry hadn't said or thought anything since they'd been together. But she tried to hold Line out. She didn't want her to see these memories. Line could feel Kerry's desperation, her protectiveness of her. She saw how, in truth, she was being torn apart, broken up. And how she was going to cope without her. But then… Line would not make a vampire. She was twenty two. Kerry had known this all along, but love and grief had blurred her judgement. She drew back from Line's throat and looked in her eyes.  
  
"I loved you," she whispered quietly. Line nodded.  
  
"Kill me." she whispered.  
  
"No! Why would I do that?"  
  
"Because if you don't do it quickly, now, then I'm going to die in agony, and without you. I want to die—" she broke off, her voice becoming thick with emotion, "With you all around me."  
  
Tears filled Kerry's eyes. She looked at Line, in her hospital gown, her fine blonde hair blowing around her like spun gold in the half light. "You're so much braver than me," she wept, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I love you." She whispered, and went for her throat again. Their minds touched. But neither of them said anything. Kerry felt Line growing weaker and weaker, and then, finally, the light of her mind started to slip away. Kerry had the impression something was dragging her with it. It was a silver cord.  
  
Finally, with an impression of a smile, Kerry felt Line's body give a final heave, and then her mind snuffed out like a candle. Kerry drew back and looked with quiet grief on Line's lifeless body. She reached out and stroked her head, before watching the sun rise. 


	6. Competition

Yah, so sorry this is late. Fanfiction was down, I couldn't be bothered, but here's a really long part to make up for it. I'm not abandoning my little story, never fear!  
  
Competition   
  
Greg looked around the lobby, trying to appear confident, eager and cheerful, like his normal self. He smiled as Jemima walked past him. She frowned at him and carried on shouting into her mobile phone. He was really, really nervous. He was due to see Sora Keller, leader of Circle Daybreak for the Black Flowers estate, on a serious misconduct charge, in about thirty seconds. His friend Nyx smiled at him as she walked across the lobby, unperturbed and calm as always. He tried to smile back.  
  
Sora's secretary, Col Anderson, looked up at Greg in his armchair. "She'll see you now." Was all he said. Greg's insides felt like lead. Sora was quite possibly the most terrifying woman on the face of the planet. She was a kite shapeshifter, and boy did it show. She looked up as he walked into her cluttered office. She was reading a report, and didn't acknowledge him except to wave him to sit down. Greg was strongly reminded of being sent to the headteacher's office at school. Sora wore irritating frameless glasses which usually hung on a chain around her neck. Right now they were perched on the end of her nose. Her dark hair was piled on top of her face, and her skin showed every second of her fifty eight years.  
  
Eventually she took off her glasses and looked up. Greg felt a wrench of terror in his gut. He realised, with strange clarity, that he was about to get demoted. She sniffed. "Gregory Kenmore," she began. "I have reviewed your file. You behaved in an extremely unprofessional way last week. You were sent on a simple mission: get in, get Nicole out, and return here. Instead, you chose to ignore your orders. You dragged several innocent civilians in needlessly. Have you anything to say for yourself?"  
  
She was looking at him with that special look of withering contempt she seemed to reserve just for him. ~I am *so* getting fired~ he thought. ~So what the hell.~  
  
"Uh, yes ma'am, I do. I saved Nicole. She's in the house of healing recovering right now. And the humans had their memories wiped, so there was no harm done."  
"No harm?! No harm?!" she was enraged now. ~Uh-oh, Rule no. 1: never, ever get Sora mad in future.~ "Nicole lost her arm. That never would have happened if you hadn't decided to try save her team as well. We'd come to the strategic decision to leave the hostages, and get Nicole out. But you had to play the hero."  
  
"I did what I thought was right." Greg said, looking down at his clasped hands.   
"It didn't work, though, did it, Mr. Kenwood? You behaved in a completely unfitting way for a captain. Consequently I am demoting you down to an ordinary team member. Jemima will take over your leadership. That will be all."  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
Greg's head was reeling. It was no less than what he'd been expecting, but… Jemima? She was weak, inexperienced, boring, stupid… the list went on. She was the only one of his five person team he didn't like. Nyx was waiting for him outside the office. "So?" she asked.   
"I got demoted."  
"Oh, Greg, I'm so sorry." The beautiful vampire put her arm around him. Her midnight blue eyes held genuine compassion. "Who's in charge?"  
Greg was feeling more and more annoyed by the minute. "Jemima!" he exploded. "I mean, can you believe it?! It's so stupid. It doesn't make any sense!"  
Nyx smiled. "You don't know that much about her, do you? There's more to that little dove than meets the eye."  
  
That was another thing that irked Greg. He could understand a shapeshifter being put in charge. If it was something powerful, like a hawk or a tiger. But Jemima was a bloody dove, for crying out loud! He was proud of being the top Daybreak witch in the estate. Now he was just normal, nothing special…  
  
Nyx must have been reading him, because she whispered "You are special, Greg. You did what you thought was the right thing. Don't take it so hard."  
  
She walked away, calling after him "We're having a meeting tonight in the common room. Be there!"  
  
  
  
  
Greg got to the common room at the same time as Jemima. He tried to keep an expression of disgust from his face and failed. She flinched and looked away. She sat in the chair at the centre of the semi circle of chairs-his chair, Greg thought with annoyance-and looked up at the group. Greg, Nyx, a witch named Amana and a vampire named Adam. The best.   
  
"Um, er, hi. This is my first day as team leader, but I think we should be more like a democracy. I think we can get better, I've got our next mission here. It's a hard one, but if we put in some extra training, I'm sure we can pull it off…"  
She looked up at Greg nervously. He scowled. Each one of her comments seemed to be a direct stab at his leadership. But he'd have to get used to it. "Our mission is to save a kidnapped human from Outside. He fell in love with a vampire, but her husband took him. We think there's a chance he's still alive. Our job is to get him and the wife out before our dear vampire does something stupid. We're due out there tomorrow night."  
  
There were a few comments and questions, but Greg didn't hear them. He tried to appreciate how terrified those poor people must be, but in his mind they didn't seem remotely relevant. He was going to star in this mission, outshine them all, and get back his rightful place as team leader. He had to.  
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
  
Jemima went out of the HQ. The crèche was only just down the road. She was on her way to see Neil's widow. Poor girl, she'd never wanted him to become a guard. Then that assassin had shown up and just killed him. Neil was a human; he'd been no match. His wife was human as well. Her name was Sally.  
  
Sally's daughter Becca was playing with building blocks on a brightly coloured mat. Her mother was helping her. "Incy Wincey Spider," they were singing softly, "Down came the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain, and Incy Wincey Spider climbed the spout again."  
  
The scene looked so sweet, so perfect. No-one would ever know that they had lost a husband and father just five days ago. Jemima's own problems seemed to fade into insignificance. At least she had been able to kill the ones who'd killed her family. She knew that gave her huge standing in Circle Daybreak, she'd taken on four lions single handed and killed them all. Very un-dove like behaviour.   
  
Sally looked up. Her mousy brown hair had fallen out of its bobble, and her grey eyes were red and tired. Still, she tried to smile when she saw her friend. "hi," she said, her voice as stained as her face. "How did it go?"  
"Okay. He was a bit… cold." She replied lamely.  
"Keep at it. I know it'll be hard at first. It was for Neil. Especially after he got promoted. But he stuck at it, and *earned* their respect."  
  
Jemima nodded. Neil Grange had quite possibly done more for the equality of humans in Daybreak's fighting forces than anyone else ever. He'd been ridiculed and bullied, but he was determined. He'd eventually had 45 of them under his command. Now he'd been killed on the job, it seemed like most of his work had been undone. There were talks of banning humans from the guard, 'for their own protection'. She knew this broke Sally's heart.   
  
"Don't let him get to you, Jemmy. You're a great fighter. You'll make a great leader, I know you will."  
"Thanks, Sally. You're a great friend."  
They played with Becca for a while, until it was time to go.  
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
They met outside the Daybreak headquarters. It was usually a little lighter in the south, but this night there were no moon or stars. The air was cool, but not unpleasantly so. Nyx was the first there. As a vampire, she didn't feel the cool breeze blowing through her black jumpsuit at all. Adam arrived next, wearing black leggings and a black t-shirt. Amana came soon after, bundled up in black, but a bright stripy scarf. "Brrr!" she said as she arrived, shaking her strawberry blonde curls. "Where are Jemmy and Greggy?"  
"We think they killed each other on the way." Adam replied dryly.  
"Hahahaha. I'm laughing so hard it hurts." Greg arrived, looking around for Jemima. "Where's our fearless leader?"  
  
"Right here." She said, running up. Greg made a big show of rolling his eyes and tutting. Jemima flushed. "Sorry I'm a bit late. I was getting some wards." She opened her bag, showing a cluster of small cloth bags in the bottom. "I think we should sort of close off the area. Stop any innocents getting caught in the crossfire."  
  
Nyx snorted, but not unkindly. "There are hardly many innocents in the north quarter." She said. Jemima grinned. But Greg had to fight of the young man in the urge to murder her. He hadn't meant for those stupid humans to wander over and politely ask why he was beating the living crap out of the young man in his grasp.   
  
He realised Jemima was still talking. "Nyx and Adam, I want you to go in first. Distract the guy. Amana, you need to be setting up the wards. Me and Greg will scout about, trying to find a way in. When we do, the two of us will go down and save the soulmates. As soon as you're finished, Amana, you join us. Try knock the guy out if you can. I think he just lives with his wife. Everybody clear?"  
  
Greg had to admit, it was a good plan. And the wards probably *were* a good plan. Jemima was proving more resourceful than he had thought. But she'd still taken his job. There were no questions. Everyone was tense, focused. The laughter had left even Amana's face. They set off into the night, nodding briefly at the witch guarding the exit they were using. They stepped into the Night World.  
  
Because that's what it is, Greg thought vaguely. If nowhere else is, this is truly the Night World. The whole organisation concentrated on a smaller scale. No-one really noticed the five silent shadows moving through the misty streets. They left the east at last and entered the north. The streets and houses were less dilapidated and clearly had richer inhabitants. The house of their target was modest. It had the look of a normally well kept place that had fallen recently into disrepair. With a nod from Jemima, Nyx and Adam went up to the door and knocked. Amana took the bag and disappeared into the bushes. Greg and Jemima slipped round the back.   
  
Greg could hear the murmur of voices from the front of the house, but apart from that there was nothing. His heart was pounding as he checked locks and looked for cellar windows. Ever since he'd arrived there had been a definite not-quite-right feel to the whole situation. When the voices stopped suddenly, he knew without knowing how that something had gone very, very wrong with Jemima's foolproof plan. She looked troubled as well. He could sense her stretching out her senses, trying to feel if the others were in trouble. He had no such ability, but his suspicions were confirmed when he heard a sudden yelp and the sounds of a struggle. Without a doubt, Amana had been caught. He looked at Jemima, then at the house. He had no idea what to do. He felt slightly afraid, but his main emotion was sheer confusion. It was maddening, not knowing what was going on.  
  
Suddenly a top floor window opened and a head popped out. It was grinning wildly. "Come to save the little vermin?" it taunted. "I'd be more worried about my friends if I were you. I don't like Daybreakers. I don't like them at all." Icy fear flooded Greg's gut. Nyx, Adam and Amana were completely at the mercy of a psychopath. He looked at Jemima, and saw from her face that she felt the same.  
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
Ffion Iodred looked out of the tiny window of the room she had been locked in for the past three days. She hadn't fed in all that time, and the muscle cramps were unbearable. She was lying on the floor, looking up and out at the inky sky, which was a total blank. She couldn't stand up any more, her legs were beginning to go numb.  
A sudden sound brought her back to consciousness: the door being opened. Her husband Asphodel was stood there. Through slitted eyelids, she saw him heave three unconscious bodies in with her. Before she could get up, he was gone, and the door was closed again. She sniffed. Two vampires, and…   
  
A witch. Lovely, hot blood pumping beneath her skin. With the last of her strength, Ffion heaved herself towards her and bit into her wrist. Almost instantly the waves of pain began to subside. The witch had been powerfully knocked out. Ffion could sense that she was killing her.   
  
With sudden horror she tried to pull away but couldn't. She gave a kind of moan as her teeth re-entered her victim. Her body wouldn't let her pull away. Suddenly she felt a strong hand on her shoulder, pulling her away. She realised someone was shouting in her ears.  
  
"What are you doing?! What are you doing?! Get off her!"  
Ffion looked up, shame burning her face. "I'm… sorry." She croaked. "I was starving, I didn't mean to take so much…"  
She trailed off when she saw that the witch's lips had a bluish tinge. "Oh god no!" she said, horror struck. "Wake up!" she shook her.   
The vampire who'd stopped her was a bow with red hair. He was paler than the vampire norm, he was shaking. "Amana!" he yelled. "Many, wake up!"  
"Wassamatter?"   
  
Adam hugged her. He had never been so relieved to hear anyone peak in his life. He looked up at this girl he was supposed to be saving. Her hair was black, falling in waves. Her eyes were a violet that was almost pink. Coupled with her vampire pale skin, she looked almost like an albino. But it suited her in an odd way. "What's your name?" he asked, warming to her. He knew how the bloodlust felt, he'd been a vampire for almost six hundred years.   
  
"I'm Adam." He held out a hand, which she clasped rather than shook. "I take it you were here to save me?"  
"Um, yeah, but unfortunately for us all, we have to rely on Capulet and Montague out there."  
  
  
  
***   
  
  
"This is all your fault!" Greg was yelling, fuming. "If you hadn't thought of putting wards all over the place, Amana might be here!"  
Jemima wasn't saying anything. She was staring intently at a downstairs window. Ignoring his outburst totally. "I think we can get in there. The wire over the windows is coming off. See?"  
  
It was. He backed up, aiming to kick it down. She grabbed him mid-run, and he was surprised by her strength. "Look." She said. "Before you go charging in, I'm in charge." He gaped. "Don't look at me like that. I mean it. I know you don't like me, and I know you resent me, but we have to work together for the greater good. I'm prepared to do *whatever* it takes to fulfil this mission. Got it?"  
  
He stared at her. Her blue eyes glowed with intensity. He nodded, trying to suppress the growing feeling of respect he felt for her. He broke free and kicked in the window. There was a quiet moan. Jemima reached in and peeled back the chicken wire which covered all the windows. She levered herself in. She gasped when she saw what was inside. A young human man, lying naked on the floor. His own filth and vomit lay all around. He gave a weak, gasp that could have been relief when he saw Jemima gawking at him. Then he fainted.  
  
Greg jumped in. "And our heroes find themselves in a really, really smelly, locked room. C'mon, lets find another pool, Polly."  
"We can't just leave him."  
"We'll pick him up later. Come on!" she went into hardened leader mode. Her eyes hardened, she jutted her chin out.   
"No. I'll take him outside and hide him in the bushes. Then we go in together and get the others. Understand."  
She looked so threatening that he stepped back.   
"Okay, okay. Keep your feathers on."  
  
She grinned. Together they hauled the unconscious man out the window. His back got a bit cut, but they got him into the bushes without too much damage. Jemima covered him with her coat, and then they broke another window. All caution had gone flying out the window, and it was pretty obvious that Asphodel Iodred knew they were in his house. It was odd, Greg thought as he dropped into the filthy kitchen after Jemima, that he hadn't come charging in on them with something sharp yet.  
  
She opened the door and peered around it. The house was eerily quiet. He looked through the crack she'd opened. The hallway was dark, and there was no sign of anyone in it. Greg gulped, it was all going too easily. Suddenly Jemima backed up. "I've got an idea."  
"What? Another one?" he couldn't resist, but felt slightly guilty when she flinched.   
"I know, my first was crap."  
"No, it wasn't," he said, surprised at himself. "You couldn't have known he would be such a strong telepath." She smiled, lighting up her pale face. "Thanks. Why don't I shift, fly down the hall and have a look around. Then we both do the gung-ho hero thing."  
  
For a minute, Greg's temper flared again, but quickly subsided. "Good idea. I'll watch your back." She smiled again. She began to change. Her skin only got a couple of shades whiter, and began to melt like wax, getting a kind of embossed pattern of feathers. Her shoulder blades cracked and her arms became wings and she shrank to bird size. The whole process took about twenty seconds. Some transformations Greg had seen had been grotesque, but this one looked… right. In an odd way it made him trust her more than anything that night. She looked innocent, pure as a dove. Greg felt a pang that such a form was being used for violence.  
  
She took off, her wings flapping gracefully. She glided along the hall, just under the ceiling. Suddenly, without any warning, a calloused red hand jerked out of one of the doors. Jemima cried out and began to change back. It was happening too fast for Greg to think. He charged out, drawing his oak sword as he ran. He grabbed the place where fingers were starting to emerge instinctively and started randomly stabbing at their attacker's legs. He pulled hard on the swiftly growing hand, which came away with a half-grown Jemima on the end. She whirled around and punched her attacker. Asphodel took a few steps back, temporarily off his guard. Greg took advantage of his confusion and knocked him over. He held the sword over him. Asphodel looked up. Greg realised with a jolt that he was crying.  
  
"I loved her. I did. I loved her." Greg's mouth gave an odd twist. This man deserved to die. Didn't he? He looked at Jemima, who now looked fully human. Her arm was hanging at an odd angle, and she was biting her lip so hard there was a trickle of blood across her chin. She gulped, then nodded. Greg tried hard to think of the man in the bushes outside as he stabbed down. He pulled out his sword and wiped it on the rapidly mummifying vampire's pants.   
  
Jemima put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You did the right thing. He did deserve it."  
"Yeah," Greg replied brusquely. "And it's not as if it's the first time I've killed. He deserved it."  
She nodded with a meaning Greg couldn't quite understand. Suddenly his face split into a smile. "Truce?"   
She smiled in relief. "Friends?"  
"Don't push your luck." He said with a laugh. "Come on, let's go find the others."  
  
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
"Nyx! Nyx! Wake up!" Amana shook her friend. Nyx wasn't moving at all. Amana had been shaking her and Adam had been calling in her mind for almost half an hour. She hadn't responded, but it was obvious she was still alive. Ffion was sat in the corner, her head resting on her knees. Eventually she spoke. "Stop it, will you? It won't do any good, you can't stop... what caused this."  
  
"What? Your husband?" Adam demanded. She shook her head.  
"He wasn't my husband any more. He was a vessel."  
"A vessel for what?"  
"It's... hard to explain. I'm not going to tell you now. But… later. You'll find out soon enough."  
  
Adam was about to reply, when someone banged on the door. "You lot? Are you in there?"  
Amana had never been so glad to hear Greg's voice. She forgot Ffion's comments. There was the sound of a lock sliding back, and the door opened. Jemima and Greg looked tired and injured, but they were smiling. Ffion ran out. "Where is he?" she begged, her eyes wide.   
  
"Outside." Jemima said, taking charge. "Someone carry Nyx out. If you can't wake her up, I'm sure someone else can. Lets go!"  
  
They trudged out into the hall. The comedy of the situation wasn't lost on Greg. He went first, kicking down the front door. Jemima and Amana came next, Amana craning her neck around oddly. Adam followed, cradling Nyx like a baby. She looked so, peaceful, almost asleep. Only the green tinge to her face showed she was in a more unnatural state. Ffion came last, looking anxious and hopeful at the same time. Amana felt a pang of jealousy, how come this girl had found her soulmate, when she also had a husband who loved her, instead of Amana, who, Goddess only knew, needed someone to love. And she knew what was wrong with Nyx. Amana could sense that some enormous power had hit her, something primeval. Where the word came from, she didn't know.  
  
When they got outside, Greg and Jemima sat on the wall together, talking in low voices to Adam. Ffion pulled her naked soulmate out of the bushes and stroked his face tenderly. Amana knelt down next to Nyx, and clasped her hand. It was so cold. Her breathing was level, but there was no life force coming from her at all. Quietly, Amana began to cry. What the hell had happened to her friend? 


	7. MUrphy's Law

Murphy's Law  
  
"Shut up! Just shut up!" "Shut up yourself! You're yelling loud enough to wake the whole estate!" "Both of you be quiet. I have to con-cen-trate." "Haven't you found them yet?" "Nah, 's too dark." "They're shiny, for the love of god!" "Well they're not shining, OK!"  
  
There was silence for a while. Vella wondered whether she should reveal herself. Dignity and Aaron were trying to co-ordinate a huge dark shape out of the skip that stood at the end of Thane Redfern's driveway. Vella supposed it was the latest thing they were 'borrowing'. In the darkness she couldn't see what it was. She presumed Oliver was in the skip. Suddenly Aaron dropped his end of the shape and it landed on his foot. He swore.  
  
"Shit shit shit! Have you found them yet, Ol?" "Shut up!" Dignity hissed. "Stop saying that!" "Stop acting so bloody stupid then!" "I'm stupid? *I'm* stupid? What about my dear brother? We come to st-to borrow a sofa, and he drops the car keys in the skip." "Hey, don't drag me into it!" "Shut the hell up!"  
  
Vella stepped out into the puddle of light created by the streetlamp. "What *are* you lot doing?" she asked, trying to keep the hurt that she hadn't been invited along out of her voice. Dignity looked up, smiling. "Vell! We thought you were gone for good! When did you get back?" "About a week ago." Vella said. The trip had been a disaster, her mother had humiliated her and she was 100% glad to be back on the estate where she belonged. "Why didn't you come round, you silly moo? Maybe you'd have stopped a certain person dropping the keys to the getaway van in a bloody skip!" Vella stood on the black shape and found that it was a soft leather sofa. She looked over the edge. Oliver Harman was looking under broken pieces of furniture and empty paint cans. Her heart gave a little kick at the sight of her boyfriend.  
  
"Hi Ollie." She whispered. He looked up at her from the bowels of the metal monstrosity and smiled, his teeth glowing in the dark. He brushed a strand of light hair out of his eyes, which she knew in good light were green- gold. "Hey, is that them?" she said, pointing at a shape glowing in the moonlight. Oliver swore again. "I knew there was a reason I liked you!" he said jubilantly.  
  
Vella laughed. She jumped off the couch, but it rocked unsteadily and fell on top of her. Dignity and Aaron stopped bickering long enough to laugh hysterically and pull it off her. "Owwww." She moaned. Dignity's silvery blonde hair glowed like a halo around her, and she levered her friend to her feet.  
  
"What've you stolen this time?" Dignity looked scandalised. "Steal? Us? Never. We're just borrowing a couch, as ours has had, um, a little accident." "They're throwing it out anyway." "She pulled the back off it." Oliver explained, jumping down. "Hey, it was a team effort, okay? If you hadn't been sat on it at the time."  
  
But by this point they had all dissolved into helpless giggles. Dignity had to sit down on the pavement she was laughing so much. Aaron pulled her to her feet, laughing as well. They loaded the sofa into the back of the truck and Dignity and Aaron sat on it. Vella and Oliver got in the front, and Aaron and Dignity were flung around by his manic driving. When it finally jerked to a halt outside the house Dig, Oliver and Aaron shared, they were still laughing as they clambered out of the hunk of junk.  
  
So she was totally off guard when a hand landed on her shoulder. "Hey!" she said, whirling round, expecting to see Redfern brand quality hired muscle. What she *wasn't* expecting was a girl who looked about fifteen gazing up at her.  
  
She was an extremely beautiful girl. For some reason Dignity could see every feature, despite the darkness. A crop of burnt cinder hair, with four little bumps rising out of it. Unearthly pale skin, and a face that was all hard lines. Berry red lips, and a perfectly straight nose. Her body was slight, and sheathed in a red dress with long sleeves and which fell to her ankles.  
  
But it was her eyes which held them all. They were terrifying. The whole group were witches, and from prominent families. Vella's mother led the witches of the Black Flowers Estate. They had all seen ancient, cold vampires. But their eyes were nothing compared to these. They were luminous green, and they had no pupils. The whites seemed faintly green. They were terrifying to look on. Dignity swallowed bile.  
  
"Wha-who-who are you?" she asked, reeling backwards. Aaron caught her instinctively. He was looking a terrified as she felt. He was staring at her in loose, unfocused way. She realised he was reading this. thing's aura. She did the same. Reading auras was not one of Dignity Weald's strong points, but this one seemed to leap out and grab her. It was black, and the mere sight of in struck even more sick dread into her stomach.  
  
Vella turned and ran. She screamed, a high pitched, broken sound. Suddenly the aura stretched out and Vella fell over, like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut. "My name," the girl said, in a voice that was oddly melodic and beautiful. "Is Marmion. But that," she paused significantly, cocking her head faintly at the scene. A girl with pale hair and green eyes swooning in the arms of a dark haired boy. A brown haired boy mouthing wordlessly at the girl lying crumpled on the ground. Clearly not important in themselves, but they would be useful. examples. With the possible exception of one.  
  
An effortless blast of black energy swept through the broken street. The boys and the unconscious girl died immediately. But the other girl whimpered and sat up. Marmion looked at her in annoyance. But this didn't last long. A plan was beginning to form in her ancient mind.  
  
***  
  
Sora opened the door to her office and waved the visitors in. They sat down, the girl flipping the end of her sari over the back of the chair, the boy folding himself neatly into it. Sora felt underdressed, Samira and Govan Drache-Harman were both wearing magnificent clothes. She couldn't help but feel a pang of admiration, the goddess had probably never come up with a more unlikely soulmate pairing. Samira was a Drache shapeshifter, originally from India. Govan was a Harman witch from Czechoslovakia. Together they were the world's leading experts on ancient lore. What the hell they were doing here, Sora didn't know. She sat on the other side of the desk, feeling the familiar power-crazy rush. "What can I do for you?" she said, trying to smile. The look on their faces, though, was grave and almost frightening.  
  
"First of all, what we say here won't leave this room." Samira said. Sora nodded.  
  
In thickly accented English, Govan began. "We believe the your whole organisation is in a danger. We are sure this danger. what it is for sure. We think, that it may be a dragon." Sora laughed and shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. The dragons have been asleep for millennia, their threat neutralised. What threat do they pose?"  
  
"They are like the Old powers." Samira said almost sadly. "They're more awake. Something comparatively small could wake them up. Just the smallest thing could tip the balance." "Like a bomb." Gavan put in. "In 1944," Samira continued, "A large bomb hit this area. It opened up a massive crater, which a very. special dragon had lain in for 30,000 years. Now we think she's awake. She probably would have taken at least 25 years to fully come around. She will have made her presence known, you understand. From the texts, it appears she was one of the more egotistical dragons. She also had a very special power."  
  
Samira cleared her throat. "She has phenomenal mind control. She can completely enslave people. Take over their minds, until they were like drones. In turn, she could move her own spirit into their body. Which is how she ended up in the body of a fifteen year old. Her name is Marmion. She was one of the youngest dragons, her name means 'brat'."  
  
Sora couldn't help snorting. "We know it is her." Gavan said. "You have an inn called the Green Dragon. She is the green dragon."  
  
The world seemed to have blurred for Sora. There was something else. Something very important. "Nyx." She said aloud. "And-oh, Goddess, something Ffion said when Jemima and Greg saved them-she said her husband was a vessel." Govan nodded. "We know the Iodred couple had something big to do with it. It's in both their blood. But we think it was only Asphodel. One thing which may save you is that she can only exert her magic over those with green eyes, for some reason. Ffion's were violet, but her mother's are green. She was a follower. Dahlia Hemlock, I believe her name is." "Ffion means foxglove. they're linked to the 'shifters, even if they were vampires." Sora murmured weakly. There was no telling how far this went. For all they knew every green eyed person on the estate could be in her sway. "What can we do against her? How? I mean, how will any of us get near enough to take off her horns?" "There is a way, but, well, the prophecy says that you will receive a special weapon to use against her. We don't know any more than that. But, if this helps, she's not working for the Night World. She cares for no-one but herself, and won't be bought." Samira squeezed Sora's hand compassionately. "We will do everything we can to help you. I swear it. But there are two people linked to her irrevocably, two people who can't control her."  
  
"And they are?"  
  
"Alaizabel Kindred and Heather Redfern." 


End file.
